Too nervous to think of a title.

Sorry for the lack of updates. The last week can be summed up thusly: tapering blows. Seriously, that's about the long and short of it. Okay, it's not ALL bad. I was almost embarrassed by all the free time I had on Saturday, needing to run only a paltry 8 miles. (Sigh…I remember back when that was my long run. Cue the "Wonder Years" theme.) But I find myself using all this free time to get nervous. I was fine until today – I woke up at 4:30 this morning and rather than roll over and go back to sleep in 2.6 seconds as I usually would, it hit me that THIS IS MARATHON WEEK (holy hand basket!). Once that thought was planted, trying to get back to sleep was a Herculean task. I actually resorted to counting sheep for gods sake.

I checked the weather up in Yakima, and at the risk of jinxing myself, I'm going out on a limb and saying I don't think weather will be an issue (cringe…knock on wood…salt over the shoulder). This whole week looks the same: partly sunny, highs in the mid-60s. Perfect! And in order to make that seem even more ideal, I ran my Saturday eight outside in the lovely Portland springtime. Here’s a timeline:
miles 1-3: overcast
mile 4: rain
mile 5: hail
mile 6: sun comes out (still hailing!)
miles 7-8: hail stops, I get uncomfortably warm and give off steam

I'm taking Friday off and driving up to Yakima around noon. I figure that will give me time to go to the expo and pick up my packet, check into the hotel, maybe drive part or all of the course, and find a paper bag to breath in. I strong-armed my friend Tina into coming with me (and that's totally a metaphor – I arm-wrestled her once and she beat me handily. She may be small, but she's stringy.). So I will have a small cheering section. :) I'm hoping to see the Back of the Packer – she is totally inspiring. I want to find whatever it is that supplies her energy and bottle it and sell it. I'd be rich!!

Note to self: I have to remember to ask for late checkout at the hotel. I want to be able to take an ice bath afterward. My feelings toward ice baths are well-documented, but damn it all, they work. Damn it.

Onto that long downward spiral called tapering

I ended up doing an unbelievable 22.34 miles on Saturday. Holy Shit, is all I can say. And then on Sunday I did the Shamrock 5k, meaning I was half a mile away from a marathon over the two days. I have to say, it really REALLY increased my confidence going into the marathon. Not only did I get within 4 miles of the marathon distance on Saturday, but it was NOT an easy run. From the get-go I felt zapped of energy. By the time I turned around somewhere in the wilds of Gresham (more on that below) I felt like a zombie. But around mile 17 I got comfortable with my zombie-ness, and finished easily. I felt much better than I had after my brush with 20 two weeks before. I'm now paying for it, though. I've started to taper so my runs have topped off at 5 mile this week but they have not been easy. I can feel that my legs are empty. They are juice-less lead weights. I'm sure I'll get my energy back after a few more days of eating bread and taking it slow. My long run Saturday is 15 miles and it'll be on an unpaved trail, which sounds like heaven.
So how did I end up doing 22.34 miles? I have the city of Gresham and a faulty bridge to thank for that. First, the bridge. At mile 13.5 on the Springwater one of the footbridges is down. They detour the path onto a nearby road for maybe half a mile, until the road loops around and crosses the trail again past the bridge. I never really bothered to figure out how much distance the detour added because I only ran it once or twice. Turns out, it adds a lot. Plus, once you leave Portland and enter Gresham, the mile markers stop appearing every half mile and start appearing when the city of Gresham feels like paying for one. Turns out, that isn't very often. Basically they put up a marker when the path crosses a major street. Thus the 15.12 mile marker, and the 16.42. Super. I really did not want to go short of my goal again, so I soldiered on even when I was pretty sure I'd hit 10.5 miles. I finally turned around at 242nd Street. On Sunday when I mapped it, I found that I had run 11.17 miles out. Wow.

I still cannot figure this running thing out.

Apparently, this is my recipe for an amazing long run: on Thursday feel ill, complete only 3 of 5 miles, and barely eat anything. Friday, stay out late eating gooey cheese, crackers, and chocolate, and oh yeah, drinking too much wine. Get up at 6 am (grghhmrmr) on Saturday to make it to pool practice by 7:15; afterwards devour three ginormous slices of French toast slathered in butter and syrup. Then change, go running, and finish thirteen miles in 1:58:08, a pace of 9:05. (!) And, except for the French toast jostling around and making its presence known, feel great doing it. WTF?

I have no idea why I felt so good - the only thing I can think of is that it seems like my body finally "got" it. Particularly after I turned at the half-way point, all the mechanics came together. I felt fluid, comfortable. I was leading with my hips and letting them set the pace (apparently the pace they wanted was 'fast'), which led to my feet falling more softly. I walked yesterday and took a yoga class. I feel so good. I hope that when I run tomorrow I'll find that it wasn't just a one-off deal. I hope that I've turned a corner in my running and I can find more peace than struggle moving forward.